It’s early spring in these woods,
bare trees like quiet old women
wearing little girls’ green things.
But in the cities, silence, and grief.

Some days
I want to lie down in ignorance,
deep in the not yet green grass,
bury my face in the cold unknowing dirt,
not seeing more than a foot or two,
that’s all I want to see.

I get down there just to look
and the brook flows on,
I can hear it, and overhead
long haul geese passing by
on their way north,
farther north than I imagine,
where spaces open out
in a different kind of quiet,
and even the small birds nearby
in the shifting trees
above the prayerful grass
sing on and on.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 24, 2020

                   When he was at the table with them
he took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them.
                   —Luke 24.30

We are taken:
gathered up in God’s grace,
belonging not to ourselves now, but God,
taken out of our lives, and made part of something
greater— infinite, gracious and unendingly good.

We are blessed:
God’s love and delight poured out upon us,
God’s mercy filling us,
so no matter what our circumstances
our lives bear grace and the power of healing.

We are broken:
sinful and incomplete, brokenhearted in love,
perfectly weak and flawed,
we are broken open
so the love poured into us may flow out
into the world.

And we are given
to the world,
resurrected, vessels of blessing,
given to love,
bread of life for others.

God, in your mercy
take, bless, break and give us,
raised, renewed, imbued with your Spirit,
full of beauty, love and courage,
the Body of Christ.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 23, 2020

God of Life,
this is the day you are creating;
we rejoice, and are glad in it.
We give thanks for all Creation,
which you are still creating:
for its beauty, its abundance of life,
for its unfolding wonder,
and for our blessed oneness.
Your sky is our lungs; your water our blood.
We confess our betrayal of our body,
imagining ourselves to be separate,
our selfish injury and abuse of the earth.
We repent, and seek to care for life
as attentively as you, for not one sparrow falls
outside your loving care.
May we regard the earth, our Mother,
our Womb, our Body,
with wonder, humility and gratitude,
and bear the fruit of love
so your creating beauty may unfold in us
as fully as in the wonders of nature.
Creating God, create us anew.
Amen.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 22, 2020

                  While they were talking,
         Jesus himself came near and went with them,
         but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.
                           —Luke 24.15-16

Only afterward
do you know it was the Beloved,

who draws near so silently, invisibly,
so much not about himself but you,

it was hardly him there
but the empty space of a divine loving gaze —

until after, when your heart speaks,
burning

with a Presence,
and you know,

and learn to say each moment,
especially the most abandoned ones:

Welcome, Beloved,
whom I do not see,

even whose very absence
is full of your presence.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 21, 2020

(Life was looking out the window at the sunrise.)
I was sitting in my room, worrying.
Death came in and sat next to me.
I moved away.

(Life walked out and spoke to the neighbor.)
Death scooted closer.
I started to sweat, tried not to stare at him.
He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, by mistake.
“We are,” he said. “Both of us.
Don’t take us so seriously.”
“What, then?” I asked.

He looked out the window.
(Life squatted in the garden looking at a bug.)
He didn’t say a word, just got quiet
and watched.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 20, 2020

            Jesus said to them, “Peace be with you.”
         He breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.
         As God has sent me, so I send you.”
                  —John 20.21-22

Meditate on this. Go slowly. Give it time.

He comes to you, present with you now,
in this very room as you read this,
in all your anxieties and hurts.
He says, “Peace be with you.”
You are all right, safe and whole and beloved.
Allow that deep peace to surround you,
embrace you, protect you.
…

He breathes his Spirit into you:
his love, his healing will, his joy,
his profound trust in God.
You breathe it in.
It fills you, every cell,
every aspect of your mindfulness.
With all your imperfections and weaknesses
you are a perfect vessel for his spirit.
Breathe deeply. You receive it. It becomes you.
…

He sends you, just as he was sent:
into this day, into your life,
to bear that love into this world,
with humble authority, with courage,
with grace, with mysterious power,
with joy and delight.
Go.
…

_________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 17, 2020

Friend, the Holy One has raised you
from all that kills you
out of pure love.

Not to satisfy some law or divine obligation,
not due to your deserving—
no, for much better reason.

The Beloved wants you. That’s it.
Wants all the you of you
and so raises you from the not-you.

The Delightful One joys in you,
savors you. Yes, you.
Licks the spoon of you.

God raises you because
no matter what has come of you
God always wants seconds.

_______________
Weather Report

Delightful
(delight being in the heart of the Beholder),
as the warm, moist breath of love
passes over us and condenses in blessing,
and the Light within the light
falls upon us, beautifying everything.
Expect intermittent periods of joy and gratitude.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 16, 2020

         Thomas (who was called the Twin), said to them,
         “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands,
         and put my finger in the mark of the nails
         and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
                           —John 20.24, 25
 
Thomas, brother in agony,
may I be your twin
as you are his:
and reach for him
where it hurts,
let that electric pain leap in,
connect in that opening,
touch the wound and bless;
as he reaches us
in our guilt, our anguish,
our still bleeding despair,
and offers the assurance
of his living.
He puts his hand in my side
and touches the marks of the nails
in my soul
and so I know
he is alive,
and my Lord,
and I am alive,
forgiven,
truly risen.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 15, 2020

O God of Life, I beg you, thrive in me
that I may neither slight nor bow to pain,
but may by grace with calm serenity
accept life’s hurts and losses and its strains,
the doubts, the hidden outcomes of my toils,
as Christ walked lovingly toward his grave
full knowing that the struggle is the soil
where seeds burst forth, where you emerge to save.
God, may your resurrecting grace be strong
in me that I may face uncertainty
with patience and a life-affirming song
that blesses both the listeners and me.
From all I fear, Beloved, may I rise,
your love and courage shining in my eyes.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 14, 2020

        Death no longer has dominion. 
                          —Romans 6.9

Ah, Death, poor Death, we respect you
and the empire you have established;
we honor your wide jurisdictions
and observe your feasts and seasons.
But we don’t belong to you.
We don’t believe in you.

We don’t fear you or your armies
and their horrible weapons, their wars,
their plagues and pandemics.
For Jesus, bearing our souls,
has walked through you like smoke
and out the other side.
Our Christ, in love, has taken you in chains.

With him we have already died —
we have already died—and been raised,
and passed beyond your power.
Come early as you may, you are too late for us!
Our funerals are acts of happy sedition
in your sad, decaying empire:
for every funeral we hold, dear Death, is yours.
We live not under your sway, but life’s,
and love’s eternal breadth
crammed into this brief span.

We mean no disrespect
when we sing joyous songs at your wake,
when we dance on your grave,
our precious, departed Death.
We tell you plainly our power:
in love, poured out in us,
we are free even in your pallid grip
to love, to sing, to rejoice.
Ah, Death, dear Death, come take our hands
and join the dance of life.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

April 13, 2020